


Wretched and divine

by withered



Series: liminal space [5]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, First Kiss, High School, Making Out, Post-Soul Society Arc, Rumors, Timeskip, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2020-08-19 01:08:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20201230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/withered/pseuds/withered
Summary: The thing about rumors is that there’s always some kind of truth to them. It might not be the obvious thing that happens to be true, the thing that has everyone’s attention, because that would be too easy. What’s true is usually the thing buried beneath it.But sometimes.Sometimes, the whole rumor is true, and sometimes, they’re true because the rumor made it that way.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Uin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Uin/gifts), [artificialdaydream](https://archiveofourown.org/users/artificialdaydream/gifts).

> A tumblr request by Uin, Anon and artificial-daydream

Kissing isn't something Rukia gives much thought to.

She acknowledges that people do it, but she's always seen it as a sort of abstract thing, something _other people_ do. 

The girls at school certainly talk about it a lot. 

And while she's never been part of the social circle of Soul Society, Rukia is aware that romance is as much a topic of conversation as anything else is. She just -- hasn't had much reason to think about it as it relates to her which is why she's thrown when Tatsuki says, with a suggestive wiggle of her brow, "I hope Ichigo does it properly."

“Why would -"

“Don’t be shy, you can tell us!” One of the girls insists and Rukia doesn’t have to fake her bashful embarrassment.

Apparently, since her absence during her recuperation period in Soul Society, Ichigo's behavior had been markedly different. Not quite night and day, not quite his endless rain, but noticeable. Noticeable enough that when she'd come back, relieving Renji of his probation, Ichigo's change had been noted too; dissected and rationalized with the popular conclusion being that _something _was going on between the two of them, and not in the "_I'm a Shinigami and so is he, and we fight Hollows and purify souls" _kind of way. 

It had been several years since then, however, and though the rumors have become less persistent with time, it's become an accepted, if not unconfirmed fact.

Ichigo had brushed it all off with the same carelessness as everything else, and Rukia had taken the same route. 

Not that anyone really believes them, obviously. 

Not giving an answer, however, has a negligible chance of succeeding because for one reason or another, the girls at school are very curious about Ichigo’s kissing prowess, and theories get thrown around: he’s the type to push you up against the wall, there’ll be tons of roaming hands, maybe he’s the kind that likes to get a little teeth in -- he seems like the type, doesn’t he? Or maybe, they swoon, maybe he’s gentler than he looks, maybe –-

The girls prod and pout and beg for details Rukia can’t give because she doesn’t have them, though she plays it off well enough with a teasing, “A lady never tells”, she will ask because Ichigo’s been insistent since day one,_ "I don’t want you getting involved with something dumb, or being taken advantage of, ask me first."_

Which leads to this conversation:

“How do you kiss?”

He almost chokes on his juice. “What the fu..”

“The girls at school want to know,” Rukia says, arms crossed, eyebrow raised. “So…?”

Still, he's stuttering, wiping the juice that's dribbled from his chin with one hand and loudly slamming his glass on his desk. “Why would anyone…what?” Which just makes Rukia roll her eyes because _honestly, he's __so dense. _

Questions about his kissing prowess aside, Ichigo's made waves enough in Soul Society on pure strength alone that people still ask her about him whenever she goes back. That it's immediately followed up with a comparison of his power in relation to his good looks, and Rukia's convinced everyone's in love with him. 

Although, while his skill in combat and on the battlefield is impressive, she supposes that it's not too farfetched that Ichigo's a little on the slow side, socially. 

Now that she's looking at him, fiddling a little and looking constipated, she realizes Ichigo's actually embarrassed, and _oh_, “I see. So you haven’t been kissed yet.”

He splutters but doesn’t disagree because while he’s saved the town and Soul Society a few times, reached Bankai in less than a week, and is a senior in high school with an impressive grade point average and an early acceptance into university, Rukia supposes with his full schedule, he just doesn’t have time for things like romance and dating which is a thought that leads her to wonder how much of that is her fault. Shinigami duties certainly take a huge chunk of time as it is, its a full-time job in Soul Society, after all, add the twins' burgeoning spiritual abilities, the constant rescue attempts Ichigo stages whenever Soul Society delays her with paperwork, Ichigo's insistence that he be her first point of contact whenever she has questions about the World of the Living, and its a wonder Ichigo has any time at all to be normal. 

It's not a good feeling which is why she decides to offer, “I could give you your first kiss.” 

“What,” he deadpans, practically collapsing like his strings have been cut, sitting on his bed and looking unamused and unimpressed.

She shrugs like it's nothing. “It’s not a big deal." And not exactly a great trial to bear. Ichigo is - he's attractive - objectively speaking. Auburn hair, tanned skin, whiskey brown eyes; sure he's quicker to scowl than smile, and it only serves to make him look more intimidating with his angular features, but it kind of works for the reputation he has going, whether he's been kissed or not, which is why she adds, in the hope of assuaging his embarrassment, "Kissing is considered a greeting in some cultures.”

He glares. “Who the hell told you that? Was it Keigo?”

“Focus, Ichigo,” she orders, rolling her eyes again. “Can I kiss you, yes or no?”

“Is this,” he pauses to lick his lips, “is this some game the girls convinced you to play or something?”

Rukia sighs. _It’s like he doesn’t even know her_. “No, I didn’t confirm or deny that I knew how you do it, but now I’m curious so.”

“So…”

“Yes or no?”

He’s looking at her, expression carefully blank, considering, thoughtful, which leads her to prompt for his sake if not for her own pride that _he wouldn’t want to kiss her _that, “It’s not a big deal, you know.”

His forehead furrows, and he opens his mouth like he's going to start yelling. Except his jaw clamps shut, and with another considering glare, he nods short and quick. “Fine.”

And it - does not go the way the girls at school describe it because: Yes, Ichigo does pull her closer by the hips, his knees bracketing hers - but also the only part where they’re touching is their lips. The contact is slightly wet from when he’d licked his lips earlier, the pressure is gentle, closed-mouthed, chaste - until it isn’t. He’s squeezing her hip, and she’s opening her mouth to protest at the pinch, and his tongue brushes against hers and it's warm and tastes a little like the strawberry juice he was drinking, and really, it’s all downhill from there.

Her legs are trembling, and she’s got her fingers tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck, her other hand digging into the meat of his shoulder as if to anchor herself, and he outright growls when she tries to steady herself - knee brushing almost teasingly against a thickening heat between his legs.

When he tilts them so he's lying on the bed, his hand is splayed along the back of her thigh, kneading and squeezing as if to goad her on.

It works.

She squeezes back, nails digging into his bicep, fingers running down the vertebrae of his spine, making his neck arc and his hands tighten, and it’s not so much kissing anymore as it is a whole other fight.

Except it isn’t that too because Ichigo’s tongue is sweeping against hers, punctuating each pass with a few nips of his teeth, and a few tugs against her lips, his other hand cradling her head, digits threading through her hair. Despite his exploration, his experimentation, he’s gentle, quietly prodding _is this okay, is this okay, is this okay…_

Her answers come hesitantly at first until it’s spilling from her. Until she’s saying yes with her hands running over his chest, until there’s an answering pressure between her thighs cradled by his hips, until he isn’t kissing her mouth anymore but mouthing at her neck and exhaling her name and she’s answering back with his.

And even though they’ve stopped, a small eternity later, they’re still wrapped around one another, tangled.

His hand rests on her thigh, where her school skirt had lifted, his thumb circling almost teasingly the flesh beneath making her squirm a little against the heartbeat against her cheek before she blows warm air against his neck and the exposed part of his chest - he’s missing a button. The thought is distracting to her for some reason.

“So," he asks, a little breathless, "kissing still not a big deal?”

“Well, I can see where the appeal might come from,” is her magnanimous response which is drowned out by a gasp as he flips her over.

“Really,” he drawls, “only just the appeal?”

She hums, feigning disinterest even as her arms snake around him and as her legs widen to make room for him. “Perhaps I need to be convinced.”

Golden eyes darkening, he practically purrs into her ear, “If you insist.”


	2. Chapter 2

Ichigo should know better, but when it comes to Rukia, the lines get kind of. Blurred.

Which is to say that what was probably meant to be a single kiss becomes many things that are not, or at least _would have been_ if Yuzu hadn’t called them down to dinner.

How long had they…?

Shit.

They untangle themselves – literally – from one another, and hastily put themselves back together, a course of action that involves putting on _other _clothes because he’s missing a button in his shirt, and Rukia has a mark on her collarbone the shape of his lips, and Ichigo’s hard in his school slacks and –

He stumbles downstairs to find Rukia already at the dining table, laughing at some story Karin is telling, and looking like nothing had even happened ten minutes before.

It shouldn’t surprise him, really.

Rukia has a way of brushing off just about anything.

Considering she’d all but yelled at him a few days before her own execution – paler than usual and haunted in her white robes, sounding as annoyed as she did when he’d make them late for school because he slept in or did a shit job of protecting himself against a hollow they were hunting – it’s pretty on brand of her.

Nonetheless, now that he’s looking, the evidence is there: the redness of her lips and the almost anxious flit of her gaze as she interacts with his family.

Yuzu gets up to get something in the kitchen, throwing a question Ichigo doesn’t hear over her shoulder.

Rukia turns her head to follow Yuzu’s voice, her shirt slipping just a little; giving Ichigo a glimpse of a smudge against her collarbone.

A second later, she rights herself, facing the table again and clearing her throat when she catches his eye. Rukia does a commendable job hiding the warmth in her cheeks by raising her bowl to her lips.

Ichigo can’t see the mark he’d left on her anymore, but he knows it’s there.

The thought distracts him through dinner.

It takes two days for the bruise to fade.

He knows because Rukia complains about it, “If I wear the collar of my uniform any higher, I’d strangle myself. You couldn’t have left it somewhere easier to hide?”

_It _being the impression of his lips against her skin, _it _being a _love bite _of all things.

“I’ll remember that for next time then,” he retorts, and the implication of _next time _should warrant some kind of conversation instead all Rukia does is snort.

When the mark finally disappears in its entirety there’s no comment to announce it, no tease about putting it back.

It’s like it never happened.

To everyone else, Rukia seems as unflappable as ever.

_Seems_, being the key word, and “to everyone else” an important distinction.

Ichigo isn’t everyone else.

He doesn’t know when exactly it started that he’d become so conscious of Rukia, or maybe, if he’d always been.

Ever since he’d learnt to read danger and warning in the twitch of her brow and the tightening of her lips, it had become almost second nature being able to tell when Rukia was playing a part – when she was lying – when she was nervous.

It was why he knew she was talking shit the first time she’d left for Soul Society, and why he’d known she’d meant it when she’d said she wanted to stay.

Why he knew she was hesitant when she’d come back – unsure of her welcome – with the way she over-corrected, her body thrumming with anticipation and her smile just a smidge too bright.

It’s there too, days after what Ichigo mentally refers to as The Incident.

She’s coiled for some kind of fall out for all that she pretends differently, and while no one’s noticed, he has.

It’s hard not to really, with the way she’s chewed at her lip and fiddled with the red ribbon of her uniform in her agitation; reddening her mouth and teasing him with more of her pale skin – now clear of the mark he’d left just below it.

For all that she’s playing casual right now, Ichigo doesn’t miss the considering glances she gives him, the way her gaze lingers, or how quick her breathes come and how dark her eyes get when he’s got her pressed against him.

They’d kissed only once, if Ichigo’s being technical.

But it already feels like a craving, a compulsion.

They’re pulled together by nothing but the gravity of the other, and it feels familiar in ways it shouldn’t – in how hard his heart is pounding with the adrenaline of it, and how _good_ she feels in his arms, comfortable; right.

When she shifts, his breath shudders through him in shock, his pants uncomfortably tight. His accompanying groan muffled against her mouth as she nips almost viciously at his lip.

Ichigo squeezes her hip in retaliation, her skirt bunching in his palm until he’s touching skin and pushing her more firmly against the wall. Her back arching, the meat of her thigh fitting into the palm of his hand; he delves into her mouth with equal ferocity she purrs at.

It’s almost a fight with her, a give and a take.

He should probably be gentler about it – he’s read enough books and heard enough girls talk about what kissing should and shouldn’t be like, but.

Rukia’s nails send a sweet sting up and down the nape of his neck, her fingers tangling with the hair there like she’s trying to instruct him without words how to roll his hips against hers, and Rukia’s never not known what she wants, and he’s never not given it to her.

At least not if he can help it.

The school bells rings and distantly, he can hear voices approaching.

Their breathing is loud in his ears, and he feels cold without the heat of her pressed against him, his arms empty of her when they reluctantly draw away.

Her eyes are still dark and her lips are bruised, and with her chest still heaving, his eyes are drawn to the shadowed peaks of her breasts.

He drifts closer, helpless, stopped only by the school blazer Rukia’s picked up from the ground and shoved against his belly both to per-emptively stop him and to provide cover for his still interested cock.

The pressure, regardless of the reason, makes his breath woosh out of him, and the mischievous glint in her eye says she’s aware.

“You couldn’t wait to do this when we were home?” she teases, voice low.

He glowers, and with a laugh, Rukia turns to walk down the corridor, sliding her own blazer over her shoulders with casual ease.

The movement pulls her skirt up for an instant, and Ichigo catches the faint impression of his fingertips on her skin, beckoning him to follow their path higher and higher along her thigh.

Over her shoulder, Rukia catches his eye, her lips curved in a silent challenge, and Ichigo’s never said no to her before – he’s not going to start now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be a lot of things but unfortunately my brain and the words are not simpatico at the moment. I hope you enjoyed this unscheduled continuation anyway.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For artificial-daydream who requested another chapter~ I don't know if this is what you had in mind, but these two really got away from me. Phew.

The thing about rumors is that there's always some kind of truth to them. It might not be the obvious thing that happens to be true, the thing that has everyone's attention, because that would be too easy. What's true is usually the thing buried beneath it. 

But sometimes. 

Sometimes, the whole rumor is true, and sometimes, they're true because the rumor made it that way.

It's Rukia's own fault.

She's too curious for her own good.

But Ichigo. Ichigo never seems to know when to tell her no. Has never been able to tell her no. Quite frankly, Rukia doesn't think he's capable of it. Because yes, Ichigo will complain to king and country, loudly and often, but he will still do the thing asked of him no matter how ridiculous he finds it.

(Rukia has tested it out. Whether she straight out asks for something or even subtly implies it, she knows for a fact Ichigo will do it.

He'll scowl the entire time, but lo and behold, whatever her desire, he will deliver.

She doesn't quite know how to feel about that.)

Rukia can't tell if it's just the result of secretly being a pushover, or if Ichigo is just used to doing things against his will because it's the path of least resistance.

Except that can't be true because even when she tells him not to do something because it would put him in danger and make his life difficult, he does it anyway. 

Sometimes Rukia thinks Ichigo does things just to be contrary, just to piss her off. Just a little.

This time though. This time is different.

Because she's not saying no. And he's not complaining. 

So.

So. 

Rukia wonders if he's just indulging her. If he's always just been curious and she'd just been convenient because she asked and she was there and. 

He found out he liked it.

And she should be satisfied with that.

That this. Experiment. Tryst. Game. Has been fun, for a lack of a better word. For both of them. Her curiosity is sated and Ichigo is content, and no one's dying or trying to die, and Rukia should be able to call it a day, right? Go back to the status quo, to what they both know, and never mention it again, no problem, right? She knows that if she says the words, it would be.

Ichigo would do it.

For all his enjoyment of their kisses, stolen and claimed, he would stop if she asked.

But the thing is _that _bothers her.

Because her curiosity has made her selfish, and she doesn't want it to stop. She doesn't want to tell Ichigo no. And she doesn't know how deep the grave she's digging is, only that she's digging it, and worse, she's doing it in public for all to see.

It seems like everyone knows that her relationship with Ichigo has changed somehow in some fundamental way.

They'd all suspected, of course, that there was something going on between them even when Ichigo and Rukia were simply who they always were since she'd crashed into his life. Realizing the extent of what outsiders assume of them is how Rukia even got into this situation in the first place, after all.

But things are different now because Rukia's made their speculation reality, and now people don't just casually refer to them as "Ichigo and Rukia" so much as "Ichigo-and-Rukia".

It's a subtle difference, barely noticeable, but different all the same.

Rukia knows how to be alone. Even when she'd been part of a group in the Rukongai, in the Kuchiki family, in the squad, she'd still been separate from everyone else; an anomaly, an outlier.

With Ichigo, and the mess she's gotten them into, she isn't anymore, and the only different thing about it is that she's noticed - that it's blatant and acknowledged and stated as fact that _Kuchiki Rukia and Kurosaki Ichigo are a package deal, you will not get one without the other, forever hold your peace._

Though maybe that's why everyone had always assumed they were together in a romantic sense before they'd even kissed, but it's too late to contemplate when the nature of the rumor has shifted from "they're a couple" to "they're definitely doing other stuff, aren't they?"

And they aren't.

At least, they weren't until it's Ichigo that has curiosities of his own.

And Rukia.

Doesn't say no.

Doesn't really want to.

Not when Ichigo's hand dips tentatively below her belly. Not when he pauses just long enough to catch her eye and ask, "Can I?"

And.

Look.

Rukia may not indulge in this kind of thing, not before Ichigo anyway, but she's heard enough of the gossip, the rumors. And there's always a little truth somewhere, right?

There probably is.

Somewhere.

Except that Rukia had said _yes _to the wrong question.

Because Ichigo isn't reaching down to _take care of himself _as the rumors about boys and their pleasure would have her believe.

And by the time she realizes that.

Well.

Her breath is punched out of her, a strangled whine that's stuttered and high hissing past her lips as her back arches tight like a bowstring. Ichigo doesn't seem to realize the danger in that because he hums against the gap of her shirt where her heart races, apparently pleased with her reaction as his touch gets a little more confident, a little firmer.

She squirms against him, finding a frustrating sort of relief in the weight of him across her body, the thick line of heat prodding at her hip, that's both grounding and not anywhere near close to enough to what she needs.

Though _what_ she needs, exactly, she doesn't know for sure.

She feels like she's growing too big for her skin, like he's coaxing something from her bones and its spilling out in the cracks of her too hot skin and too breathy sighs until even that isn't enough.

Ichigo, apparently reading every line her body's telegraphed, rolls a nipple through her shirt with his tongue in consideration.

The feeling only intensifies, and that's just - _rude. _

She'd bitch at him if it meant she could string the words together.

And by then, well.

Rukia tastes blood.

By the time the world stops looking too blindingly bright, Ichigo is there. Forehead pressed against hers with his lips still red and puffy, tongue flicking out at her mouth where the blood definitely is, he says, "Someone's home."

"You bit me," she says, feeling a little dazed, her words a little slurred.

He exhales a breath that sounds like a chuckle. Their noses brush, their lips touch as he replies, "You got loud."

"Oh," is her only response as slowly the realization trickles in and her embarrassment warms her cheeks, her throat, her chest. Ichigo follows the trail with his mouth.

The kisses are loud and obnoxious.

His shoulder shake a little, and Rukia feels his laughter rather than hears it.

Curving her fingers around the nape of his neck, she squeezes in retaliation while her other hand covers her mouth as she muffles own incredulous giggle.

"Lesson learned," she says, "we aren't doing that again."

Ichigo huffs out a breath, crawls back up to nip at her lip and says, "Well, not if anyone's home, anyway."

And that, at least is something the rumors got right.

This kissing business is insatiable.

**Author's Note:**

> [As always](https://everything-withered.tumblr.com)


End file.
